What Do You Say?
by Chelsea Oz
Summary: One shot. Carol is still dealing with her grief over her first husband after all these years but is unable to do it alone anymore. Mike is there to help her through it.


Whoever said time heals all wounds was a liar. While the idea sounds comforting, the real matter is that is not the case. It has been seven years since my first husband died and it's been going on five years since I've married my second husband and I'm still grieving. Seven years on this day my husband died in a car accident on his commute home from work and I still haven't gotten over it completely.

Mike doesn't know how I fall apart on this morbid anniversary and neither do my girls. I've made sure to cry all alone while they're gone. Do my girls mourn like I do? I would understand if they did. What's the matter with me? The thought of my girls grieving all by their lonesome never occured to me until this particualr anniversary and it occured right at the dinner table. I was watching the girls eat their dinner and a wave of sadness swept over me so suddenly that tears sprang up into my eyes before I could even try to surpress it.

"Are you okay, mom?" Bobby asked before I could even pray no one noticed me in that moment. Of course it wasn't long before everybody looked at me.

"What's the matter, honey?" Mike asked, full of concern.

"It's just," I began as I got up from the table. I couldn't stay there. "I have to go to the bathroom."

"Mom, are you sick?" Marcia asked with her eyes ready to bug out of her head.

"I'll be all right," I said, almost getting irritated. "Please, finish your dinner, kids."

"All right," Mike said to the kids. "You all heard your mother: eat."

"Thank you," I told him as I tried not to run up the stairs. I turned around to see that Mike never took his eyes off me though.

I hate myself. I haven't stopped sobbing since I've made it to our bedroom because another thought just occured to me: does Mike still grieve for his first wife? Why don't I talk to him about her? Maybe if I did I wouldn't have to feel so alone with my grief. Maybe I would just expose myself as the bad wife if it turns out he doesn't grieve for her the way I do for him. That's what it all boils down to is shame, I realize. I have every right to be ashamed. I am totally selfish for not telling my husband or my children how I feel.

"Carol," Mike knocks on the door.

I don't even answer him. I breathe heavily as I watch him open our door anyway and heavier when he sees the state that I'm in. He walks over to me and folds his arms. I hang my head in shame as I feel like I'm going to be reprimended.

"He died seven years ago, Mike," I finally say.

"Is that what this is all about?"

I looked up at him when he asked me that. His arms were still folded but his expression softened. That made me tremble all over again and a batch of fresh tears fell out of my eyes.

"I'm a bad wife," I whisper as my cries turn to sobs again.

That was when I saw my husband squat down and I felt him put his arms around me. Oh God, it felt so good. He doesn't hate me. I breathed out heavily when I realized that he was here for me.

"You are okay, honey," he whispered in my ear before he kissed my cheek.

"I'm so sorry I kept this to myself for so long," I told him as I kissed his cheek in return. "I didn't mean to be so selfish."

"It's not selfish, honey."

"Then what do you call it?"

"It's called grief and we need time to feel it in our own way."

"What's your way, Mike?"

He pulled away from me when I asked that. He looked down at the floor and then back up at me to give me an answer. He chuckled a little before getting teary-eyed himself.

"Sometimes," he began. "Actually, most of the time, it's a lot like your way."

He finally began to cry and I began to cry again myself. I took his face in my hands and gave his lips a kiss. I hugged him gently around the neck and he grabbed my waist.

"I love you," I said to him.

"I love you, too," he said to me.

"We're okay."

"Yes, we're okay."

It was then his turn to grab my face and kiss me. We both got up and hugged each other again. We were okay.


End file.
